


you've got me smiling in my sleep

by something1d



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Afterlife, M/M, One Shot, Reality, larry stylinson - Freeform, still don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1226890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/something1d/pseuds/something1d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis and harry don't know each other, until they do. featuring a magical niall & a liam and zayn that turn up at some point or another.</p><p>semi-reality/sort of supernatural (I guess?) one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got me smiling in my sleep

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something that just kind of appeared in my mind, and then the next thing I knew I was writing, and hours and hours later we've got this monstrosity of a one shot here (which isn't even THAT long I'm just exaggerating but still) and I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself.
> 
> I wrote this on a separate document and then copy-pasted it onto here, which means that the italics I used for emphasis didn't transfer over, and I don't really feel like going through and re-adding all of them, so. Sorry :/
> 
> It's really different, and really weird, so just bear with me. It was fun to mess around with ideas and just kind of come up with something, so I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title from "Catch Me" by Demi Lovato
> 
> Copyright © 2014 by something1d, all rights reserved.

The room is white, and much too shiny. So shiny, in fact, that Louis squints when he opens his eyes for the first time, letting out a small groan and throwing his arm over his face.

He immediately hates it.

He sits up slowly, gradually opening his eyes as they adjust to the rays currently beleaguering his face. He then comes to his senses and gasps, jumping to his feet, because he's completely and utterly naked.

He looks around rapidly, spinning in a circle with a hand covering his crotch. But then, he slowly comes to a stop, because he realizes that no one’s there to see him.

Louis’ eyebrows pull together in confusion, trying to figure out where he is while simultaneously wishing -- really wishing -- that he had some clothes to put on. Strangely, the second the thought crosses his mind, he turns to see a pair of boxers, jeans and a t-shirt laid out on the floor, as if waiting for him.

He lets out a sharp exhale, scratching his nose as he walks over to put the clothes on. Is this some kind of dream? This seems very Harry Potter-esque, like, the part in the last book where Harry “dies” and sees Dumbledore in his subconscious.

Once he zips up his jeans, he looks down to see the very Harry Potter book in question sitting on the floor at his feet, and he gasps. He bends down and squints at it, poking it to make sure that it’s real.

It’s very much solid.

He looks around again, wondering how it could've possibly appeared like that and who put it there, and again, there’s no one present.

When he looks back down at the book, it’s opened to a page: page seven hundred and twelve, to be exact. And there are a few lines that are highlighted in bright pink.

“ ‘I feel great at the moment, though,’ said Harry, looking down at his clean, unblemished hands. ‘Where are we, exactly?’

‘Well, I was going to ask you that,’ said Dumbledore, looking around. ‘Where would you say that we are?’ “

And then a little farther down, “ ‘Well, where do you think we are?’ asked Harry, a little defensively.

‘My dear boy, I have no idea. This is, as they say, your party.’ “

What the fuck?

This has got to be some sort of dream. What -- just -- what?

He feels rustling at his feet, and then the book is open to a new page -- seven hundred and twenty-three -- and this time, there is one line highlighted in blue.

“ ‘Tell me one last thing,’ said Harry. ‘Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?’ “

Louis is very, very uncomfortable.

He blinks, and then the blue is gone, and now a new line is highlighted in green. “ ‘Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?’ “

Then the book is gone.

Louis’ head is spinning, just a little bit, because what? He has to be asleep, he’s going to wake up any second now and he’s going to be laying in his bed at --

At. Um. The place he lives? Which is -- where?

He suddenly can’t breathe, because fuck, Louis can’t remember. And the harder he thinks, the more he comes to realize that he can’t remember anything about himself at all.

Well, no, that’s a lie. He can, a little bit. He remembers what movies he likes, and what music he listens to, and what kinds of foods he likes to eat. He remembers his name and his age, the clothes he likes to wear, and how he likes his tea. He remembers that he loves acting and singing, and that he really fancies watching One Tree Hill (because Chad Michael Murray, duh).

But, try as he might, he can’t remember his friends, or his family, or where he lived. He can’t remember what schools he went to or his classmates, or any place he’s worked -- that is, if he’s ever even had a job. He just can’t. If he thinks hard enough, he can picture vague outlines of a woman surrounded by tiny little girls, and another group of three or four lads about his own age, but he can’t remember faces or names. He feels a rush of fondness overcome him when he “sees” fuzzy images of all of these people in his mind, though, so they must be important to him.

He wills everything to stop, for him to wake up and get back to his life and do whatever it is that he does. But as Louis rubs his eyes and blinks repeatedly, the more real the room -- or whatever he’s standing in, because he’s not even entirely sure if this is a room -- becomes.

Louis then has a sudden urge to look up, and when he does, he sees a messy line of bright red words painted into the all-white sky: “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”

He then hears the echo of a bright cackle, and jumps, eyes darting everywhere, looking for whoever’s taking the piss. “Okay, enough fucking around! Who the hell are you and what the fucking fuck are you doing?!”

Nothing.

Louis sighs angrily and sits on the floor, legs crossed like a five year old during story time. He rests his head in his hands and takes deep breaths, looking for a logical explanation to all that is going on, and coming up with nothing.

But before he can even begin to panic, a boy is sitting criss-cross-applesauce in front of him, mirroring Louis.

Louis blinks at him for a moment, before letting out a girly screech -- a bit of a delayed reaction, really -- and attempting to scooch his body as far away from the stranger as possible.

Then the boy is gone.

Louis swallows thickly, feeling a thin layer of sweat form on his forehead. He just barely gathers his thoughts together and gets himself to his feet, when -- “D’you really think that scooching is the most effective way to get away from someone, mate? Wouldn’t it be more productive to, I don’t know, get up and run?”

Louis screams again and turns around, trying to find the place the voice has come from, and finds the same boy laying on his stomach behind him, with a very amused expression on his face and his chin in his hands.

Louis freezes. The boy continues grinning, kicking his feet up in the air.

They stare at each other for a bit, before Louis speaks. “Who the fuck are you?”

The boy musses up his dirty blonde hair, grin faltering a bit but still never leaving his face. “Niall.”

Louis just stares. “Niall” just grins back.

“Okay, um. That doesn’t really help me much, so how about instead you tell me where the fuck I am, why the fuck you’re here, and how the fuck I can get out of here?” Louis snaps, and the boy just winks and disappears.

Louis spins around and finds Niall sitting on a red armchair that’s somehow appeared out of nowhere, head resting in one hand. “Didn’t you read the Harry Potter quotes I left out for you? Thought that woulda explained everything.”

Louis’ beginning to find the boy’s Irish accent -- and everything about him, really -- extremely unnerving. “It didn’t, actually.”

Both Niall and the armchair disappear again. Louis flares his nostrils, and turns around once more, only to find that Niall is nowhere to be seen.

“Up here, Louis!”

Louis’ eyes widen as he looks up and sees Niall sitting in a tire swing above him, looking very relaxed. The rope seems to be of an endless length, going on forever. Louis is, for some reason, very irritated that he can’t see what it’s tied to, where the rope is hanging from. “Okay, can we cut this bullshit magic act and stop the disappearing? I need answers, and I fucking need them now. And how the fuck do you know my name?”

Niall rolls his eyes and disappears again, but this time, he reappears right in front of Louis, sitting on the floor again. “Fine, ruin the fun. I’ll stay here. But you should watch your attitude, Louis.”

Louis just glares down at him. He finds himself unable to think of anything to say, despite the fact that mere moments earlier, he’d been itching to ask dozens of questions.

Niall raises his eyebrows at him and pats the floor in front of him, for Louis to sit down. Louis lowers himself to the floor slowly.

They sit there in silence for a bit before Niall sighs. “I’m bored. Say something.”

Louis swallows thickly, suddenly feeling very anxious. “Um. Hi.”

Niall snorts. “Hey. Anything else? I’ve got places to be, you know. People to see.”

“Um, yeah.” Louis’ train of thought stops there.

Niall sighs, rolling his eyes. “Well, get on with it then.”

“Okay. Well. Where am I?”

“Harry Potterrrr,” Niall sing-songs, one corner of his mouth perking up into a half-smile.

“Okay fucking -- just -- ugh,” Louis says, attitude returning full-force. “The book did not explain anything to me.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? No pun intended.”

Louis blinks. “Yes,” he deadpans. Niall groans.

Silence.

Then. “I knew this would be the hardest part,” Niall mutters, seemingly to himself. He ducks his head, deep in thought, and then he looks up at Louis. “S’why I was hoping you’d figure it out yourself. I’ll put it this way. Let’s say…let’s say this is your place. Somewhere different, where, um. People can’t really get to, unless...unless they -- unless something happens to them. And that you can basically make this wherever you want it to be,” he says quietly, eyes looking serious for the first time throughout the entire conversation.

Louis’ breath catches in his throat as some sort of understanding dawns on him. “Please don’t tell me that you mean what I think you mean.”

Niall’s blue eyes fill with what looks like a mixture of pity and sadness. “Depends on what you’re thinking, man.”

“Can’t you -- aren’t you like, a mind-reader or summat? You read my mind about Harry Potter. You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

Niall looks uncomfortable. “Well, I wouldn’t call meself a mind-reader exactly,” he says quietly, and Louis rolls his eyes.

“Niall,” Louis says insistently. Niall says nothing.

“Am -- am I dead?”

Niall’s eyes soften with pity again, and despite the fact that he still hasn’t said a word, his gaze seems to say thousands of things.

“Fucking hell, I’m fucking -- I’m dead.”

Nothing.

“Am I -- is this -- where is this, then? I mean, like, is it -- is it good here?”

“Are you asking if you’re in Heaven?”

Louis swallows thickly and nods.

A small smile tugs at the corners of Niall’s lips. “We don’t call this place Heaven, or the other place Hell. Like I said, it’s really whatever that you want it to be. If you’re asking whether or not you’re in the good place, though, then. Yeah. You are.”

“So...I won’t be burning in eternal fires, or pushing boulders up cliffs for the rest of time or anything like that?”

Niall full-out laughs here. “Nah, no punishments at all. You’re in the clear, kiddo.”

Louis allows himself a smile here, because Niall’s laugh is infectious. “Alright. Next question, then. Why am I the only one here? Bar you, of course.”

“Oh, we’re not the only ones here. This is your orientation. You’ll meet others later.”

“Orientation?”

“Yeah. I’m your...tour guide.”

“Oh. Um. What does that mean?”

“Well, I help you with anything you need. You can talk to me whenever you’d like. I, uh, show you the ropes, per say, when it comes to how this joint runs. The works, you know.”

Silence.

“How do you know who I am?”

Niall hesitates, then shrugs. “Like I said, I’m your tour guide. It’s my job to know everything about you.” Niall’s shoulders stiffen as he speaks, and he doesn’t meet Louis’ gaze this time. Louis narrows his eyes, wary. “Are you sure?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“You don’t seem too sure.”

Niall fidgets uncomfortably, pulling at the hem of his shirt. “I’m not really allowed to say much, really. If we’re done here, then -- “

“No! We’re not done here, I still have questions!”

Niall’s posture relaxes, and he meets Louis’ eyes again. “Okay. I think I’m going to want to grab something to eat though, if you don’t mind.”

“We can eat here?”

Niall laughs again. “I don’t know what I’d do if we couldn’t, mate.”

Louis’ about to ask another question, but he’s interrupted by how Niall’s suddenly holding a slice of pizza and shoving it eagerly into his mouth.

Louis just stares for a second, and then laughs, because the fuck? But then he stops, because he’s dead, and why isn’t he more upset about this?

“Niall, I’m dead.”

“That you are, bud. You’re taking it fairly well, too.”

“Um, yeah, maybe that’s because. Well. I don’t know. Because I know nearly nothing about my previous life?”

“And?”

Louis gapes at him. “What do you mean, ‘and?!’ I can’t remember what my life was like! Innit your job to tell me, and that?”

Niall just shakes his head, and Louis squints at him. Before he can say another word though, Niall’s talking. “Alright, look, this is how it goes. When you first get here, you don’t remember what your life was like. No one does, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because we want you to be happy here. And, to not hold on to your pasts. All that would do is make you miserable.”

“So, all of my memories are just gone forever?”

“Not exactly. Once you’re happy here -- like, so happy that memories wouldn’t upset you anymore -- you gradually get everything back.”

Louis is, to put it simply, very taken aback. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re telling me that I won’t remember anything about myself until I’m happy here?”

Niall nods, smirk spreading across his face. “Kind of like a Disney movie, right? Finding true happiness is the key to finding yourself.”

Louis laughs again. “Yeah. A very existentialist concept.”

Niall grins and shrugs. “Any other questions?”

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know if we’re supposed to remember this, but, how’d I die?”

“Not my job to tell you. That’ll be in the records department. It’ll be one of the things you’ll find out about yourself, though, as you...you know. Find happiness.”

“Oh.”

Niall stands up here, and runs a hand through his hair again. “Again, you’re taking this really well. I’m not surprised though, freaking out was never a very Tommo thing to do. You’ve always -- ” Niall’s eyes widen, and he blushes. “Sorry. Wasn’t supposed to say that much. Ignore all that.”

Louis stands up as well, giving Niall a funny look but not pushing it. “I think I’m a bit shell-shocked, actually. Hasn’t really sunk in yet.”

The embarrassment fades from Niall’s cheeks, and he laughs. “Understandable. You’ll get used to it. Pretty fun here, actually. You get to do whatever you want, whenever. Just think up something and it’ll be there.”

Louis’ jaw drops. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”

“Easy. Chocolate.”

“Alright, now picture yourself with a chocolate ice cream in your hand.”

Louis closes his eyes and pictures it, and then he feels something weigh his hand down a bit, and he opens his eyes to see that he is, in fact, holding a cone of chocolate ice cream.

“Sick,” Louis whispers, eyes widening. Niall chuckles. “Alright, well, I’d best be off, let you get settled. I’ve got another person waiting for their orientation at the mo, and I’m runnin’ late. If you need me, just think me up and I’ll be here.”

“Um, okay. Yeah. Will do.”

Niall just looks at him for a bit longer, eyes softening with something Louis can’t read, before he steps forward and pulls Louis into a tight hug.

Louis, understandably very confused, freezes for a bit, before wrapping his arms around Niall and awkwardly patting him once on the back.

Niall finally pulls back, eyes looking a bit wet. Louis is beyond baffled. “Sorry, I just. Um. Never mind. Anyways, are you ready?”

Louis’ eyes widen. “Ready? Ready for what?”

Niall just gives him a watery grin, snaps his fingers, and then everything’s black.

****

Louis wakes up on a bed this time.

More specifically, a hammock. Which, okay, might not actually be a bed, but whatever.

He stretches, joints popping as he does so, and admires the clear blue sky above. Looking around, he sees that he’s suspended over nearly-white, fine sand, and that a sparkling, cerulean ocean is not even five meters away.

And, not only that, but people. There are other people here, lying on hammocks, or swimming, or playing beach volleyball a little ways away.

He wonders where he is, and then everything from his “orientation” with Niall comes rushing back, and Louis sighs. Right. Death-land. Or something.

He’d like to think he’s somewhere exotic, like Fiji or Jamaica. Somewhere he’s always wanted to go, somewhere he’s never really been able to experience.

It’s nice.

He sits up slowly, so that the hammock doesn’t twist and spit him out onto the ground, and lowers his feet into the warm sand. The sun is bright and harsh in his eyes, and he silently wishes for sunglasses and feels them appear in his right hand.

That’s going to take some getting used to.

He slides them over the bridge of his nose and admires his black swim trunks -- very thankful that he didn’t wake up naked this time -- before deciding to explore the island, or beach, or wherever he is.

He decides to start toward the left, and watches a teenage girl paddle on a surfboard, preparing to ride a wave. He thinks he’s got to try that some time, and can vaguely remember surfing somewhere, at some point.

He’s so focused on watching the girl glide across the wave that he doesn’t watch where he’s going, and walks straight into the back of another person.

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, I -- “ Louis starts, but then stops, because the back he’s bumped into actually may be one of the nicest backs he’s ever seen in his entire life.

Well, maybe not, because he doesn’t recall seeing any nice backs in his life, because he hasn’t got a life anymore. Oops.

Nicest back he’s ever seen in the afterlife, then. Post-mortem.

Whatever.

Anyways, he’s so preoccupied with staring at this muscular, tan, freckled back (even taking his sunglasses off to get a better look) that he doesn’t even realize that he’s left his apology hanging. The nice back then disappears (making Louis pout) and a nice chest appears in its place (making the pout disappear because wow hot damn) and Louis is left standing nose to nose with a pair of inked birds (on said lovely chest). Or, nose to beaks, rather.

He cracks himself up.

He’s so lost in his own mind that he, again, doesn’t realize that the owner of this lovely chest/nice back/tattoed birds is grinning down at him.

And then, the man (boy? man-boy.) clears his throat, and Louis finally does realize (after this very long period of not-realizing), and jumps back about six kilometers or so, because fuck he’s an idiot.

“Um. Hello! I, uh. I’m sorry that. That I. Um. That I walked. Um.” Louis’ nearly sweating now, trying and failing to find his train of thought. “You have really nice tattoos,” Louis ends up blurting out, and he smacks a hand over his mouth because God almighty, he’s got to learn how to not be stupid, period.

Man-boy lets out a throaty chuckle, and Louis feels shivers travel up and down his spine. “Thanks. Not sure how or why I got them, though.”

Louis swallows thickly. “Shame, that. S’alright though, because I don’t remember why I got these either.” He holds out his arms, both smattered with small tattoos, and man-boy leans in a bit closer to look at them.

While man-boy is distracted, Louis decides to get a better look at him. Or, the parts of him that aren’t his chest. Or birds. Or back. 

He’s absolutely gigantic -- fucking Bigfoot or something, seriously, with those long legs and stretching torso -- and is wearing these ridiculously tiny yellow shorts that are so bright that Louis wants to put his sunglasses back on just to be able to look at them. He carries himself awkwardly, shoulders and head hunched a bit, but he somehow makes it work. Tendrils of curly brown hair peeks out of the snapback that sits snug in its backwards position on his head, and a pair of bulky black sunglasses rest on a nose that’s slightly too large for his face.

His lips, though, are something else. He’s pursing them as he examines Louis’ tattoos, causing his chin to wrinkle up in the cutest way, and Louis wants to move his arm slightly forward so that they’re pressed against his skin.

Is that weird?

Probably.

Then, man-boy leans back and straightens up -- or, sort of straightens up, because he’s still kind of hunchy -- and his pink lips part into a smile around a row of brilliantly white teeth, and Louis’ pretty much done.

“I like yours too. That compass is really nice, very intricate.” The words seem to drip out of his mouth, slow and molasses-like, in such a way that it seems like he’s tasting each word before he says it, making sure that it’s the right one he should be using in that instant.

Louis shouldn’t be so endeared. Hasn’t got the right.

“Thanks. Your ship’s pretty dandy as well,” he says, trying to sound all cool and flirty-like but failing miserably because dandy? Really?

Man-boy’s smile grows wider as he looks down at his own shoulder, twisting his (very nicely built) arm so that he can see it himself. “How kind of you to say,” he says, before looking back at Louis’ compass. He studies it for a moment before pursing his lips again. “Hm.”

Louis tilts his head to the side, trying his very hardest not to ogle at man-boy’s beautiful biceps. “What?”

“Looks...looks like they kind of match, a little bit.”

Louis looks between their tattoos, and lets out a tiny, surprised cough when he realizes that they do, which is weird. “Huh. What do you know.” A flicker of something comes to life in Louis’ brain, and he can just barely recall sitting in a black leather chair at a tattoo parlor and showing the designer a picture of the compass, all the while holding someone’s hand tight. The memory is gone quicker than it came.

Man-boy tilts his head a bit, before removing his sunglasses and holy hell, Louis completely forgets about the flashback because he is positively floored.

Green green green.

Louis decides that green is his new favorite color.

Bright emeralds shine into Louis’ eyes, shine so bright that Louis feels like he’s reading his thoughts, like man-boy can see right through him. They’re framed by long, dark eyelashes and are currently crinkling up into another smile as he holds his hand out to Louis. “I’m Harry, Harry Styles.”

Louis’ breath hitches because what a fucking name, and he blinks a few times before reaching out to clasp Harry’s hand in his. A jolt of some sort flickers through Louis’ veins the second he touches Harry’s skin, sending another shiver through Louis’ body and leaving him a bit woozy. “Louis Tomlinson,” he says, embarrassingly breathless.

Harry’s smile only grows wider. “Good to meet you, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis can’t say anything in response, just stares at Harry’s bright greens, before he realizes that he’s still holding Harry’s hand -- and wow, there’s something strangely comfortable and warm about having Harry’s hand in his, isn’t there -- and he pulls back, coughing and scratching the back of his neck. He’s really got to work on his reaction time.

“Right. Um. Sorry about, uh, bumping into you earlier. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

Harry shakes his head, shrugging off Louis’ apology. “It’s okay, whatever. Happens to the best of us.” He blinks slowly at Louis, in a way that Louis thinks might be done purposely in an attempt to be seductive. But then again, Louis’ definitely prone to over-analysis, so he can’t say. Besides, everything about Harry seems to be slow; the way his smiles spread slowly across his lips, the way he speaks slowly, taking his time with every syllable. It’s a radical counter to Louis’ sharp tongue and quick movements and rapid thoughts. Louis quite likes it.

He smiles sheepishly at Harry. “I was just distracted by how beautiful this place is, I guess.”

“Yeah, it’s gorgeous. How long have you been here?”

Louis shrugs. “I kind of just woke up here a few minutes ago.”

Harry lets out a breathy laugh. “What a coincidence, as did I. Except, I think I woke up an hour or so ago maybe.”

Louis just nods in response, and then they’re silent and it’s painfully awkward and Louis wants to kick himself.

“Alright, well, guess I better go. I, uh, kind of wanted to take a look around here. See you around?” he finds himself saying before he can even think about what his words mean, and then they sink in and no, Louis doesn’t want to leave this beautiful, beautiful person.

Harry looks like he’s about to say something, and Louis holds his breath and hopes that Harry’s going to ask him to stay, but then he just closes his mouth and nods, giving Louis another small smile instead. “I’ll see you around, Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis smiles back and gives Harry a small two-fingered wave before turning around and shuffling away, replacing his sunglasses on his nose and cursing himself for his own idiocy.

****

Louis’ lounging under a palm tree when a few things pop into his mind.

One: Harry’s dead too, which makes Louis sad.

Two: Harry’s dead too, which makes Louis happy because he’s in the same place Louis is.

Three: Harry may not even exist at all, because what if all of this is a figment of Louis’ imagination?

Four: Is it possible to want to date someone after you die?

And five: Where the fuck is he going to live? (Or, die. Or, be dead in. Reside in. Yeah, that’s the one.)

He thinks he’s got to talk to Niall.

Louis sighs, pushing his fringe out of his face. He closes his eyes, scrunches up his nose, and thinks hard, and then he feels the movement of a warm body next to him and opens his eyes in delight. “Niall!”

Niall is sipping something out of a coconut, and smells very strongly of alcohol. “Hey Louis, what’s up?”

“I just had a couple questions, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.”

Niall nods, taking another sip from the coconut.

“So, uh. I was wondering, if I, like, had anywhere to sleep? Like, a house or flat of sorts?”

Niall nods rapidly, scratching at his pasty arm. “Shit, I completely forgot to tell you! Sorry, I’m new at this, haven’t exactly done it before.” He gives Louis a sheepish smile before adjusting his Ray-Bans, standing up and gesturing for Louis to follow him.

He leads him along a path to a complex. It’s a dark wooden building, with a white-washed roof and a very inviting feel to it. Niall hands Louis a key-card, with the number seventeen written on it. “There you are. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. Um. Are all of these people real?”

“Yup. They’ve all once been alive, and they all have their stories. Some know em, some don’t.”

“So they’re not all figments of my imagination.”

Niall laughs. “Nah, don’t think you’re creative enough to think up all of these folks anyways.”

Louis ignores the snub, because what does Niall know about him? Like, really know, beyond the facts and shit. “And, are we chosen to be here? Is everyone assigned beaches to live on?”

“No. Everyone here likes beaches, so they live by the beach. Everyone working here, at the restaurants and shops and things, is working here because they want to. It’s literally just like life, except, everyone’s dead.”

Louis grimaces, because that’s an unpleasant way to put it. “Oh.”

Niall, oblivious, sips from his coconut again.

“Is this all there is, then? This is all that exists here? I’m stuck on this beach?”

“Of course not! There are streets not too far away, you can drive wherever you’d like. Everyone gets a car in their respective garages, of course, so you can go to cities, or into the country, wherever.”

Louis lets out a relieved breath. “And also, can I -- can I just summon anyone, by thinking them up? Like you?”

Niall shakes his head. “That’s one thing you can’t do. Alongside popping in and out of places, like I can, that is. The only things you can wish up are material objects, not animals or people.”

Louis nods. “Um. Alright. Thanks, Niall.”

Niall grins at Louis. “Anytime, man. Whenever you need me, call.”

He’s about to walk away, when Louis calls him back. “Wait! I, uh, forgot to ask you something.”

Niall turns around, raising an eyebrow. Louis takes a deep breath. “I sort of met someone, earlier.”

Niall blinks at him. Louis continues. “And, um, he was really. Uh. He was really something.”

Louis notices that Niall suddenly looks worried. He takes a few steps closer to Louis. “Yeah? Something, as in, what?”

“As in, he was just...I don’t know. Incredible. Nice. Pretty.”

Niall laughs uncomfortably, rocking from side to side. “Oh, I see. Do you know his name, by any chance?”

“Yeah, Harry.”

Niall’s eyebrows pop up, and he stands up a little straighter. “Harry who?”

Louis eyes Niall warily. “Harry Styles…”

Niall lets out a massive breath, eyes dancing with excitement. He lets out a loud laugh, clapping Louis on the back. “That’s great man, really fantastic actually. I’m really glad you met him, he’s an awesome guy.”

“Um.” Louis’ extraordinarily confused, and is feeling a bit prickly, because Niall knows Harry?

He shouldn’t be jealous, right? That’d be completely irrational.

Yeah. He’s not jealous. He’s being stupid. Whatever. “Okay. Well. I was just wondering, if it was possible to, like. Have feelings for someone, and, like. Date them. Here.”

Niall’s grin somehow gets brighter, and he’s (literally) buzzing with happiness. “Oh yeah, mate, it’s definitely possible. Completely. One hundred percent. Lots of people date. People get married here, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course!” Niall laughs again, and Louis’ kind of scared.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Niall’s grin is still plastered across his face, and Louis’ cheeks hurt just looking at it. “No problem! See you Louis!” He skips away happily, letting out gleeful shouts and laughs here and there. Louis watches him go until he rounds a corner and is out of sight.

Louis scratches the back of his neck and shakes his head before making his way into the complex. Crazy fuck.

****

The strangest thing happens to Louis when he tries to ride the elevator back down to the ground floor from his flat.

So, it turns out there are several buildings near the beach, each one different. Their sole similarity is that they all have twenty floors each. The funny thing is, that each floor belongs to one person.

Yes, one person. As in, singular. Individual. An entire floor, for one person.

There’s a small slot next to the elevator doors, and you slide your key-card into it and the elevator doors open. You go in, hit the number written on your key, and voila! You get out and you’re in a hallway that’s completely empty, bar one door at the end -- the door to your flat.

Upon entering his flat, Louis had been shocked. He’d dropped his key and just stood there and gaped for a solid ten minutes, because it was so massive and insanely gorgeous. It had everything he could ever want -- game consoles, a flat screen, stacks of take-away menus, a tiny kitchen (only a fridge, a sink, a microwave, and some cabinets, because nope Louis Tomlinson does not cook), and an enormous, fluffy bed. Louis’ in love.

That’s not the point, though. The point is, Louis’ just changed into jeans and a shirt and is going back down to the beach to get some dinner and a drink or two, and the second he slides his key-card into the small slot by the doors, the elevator arrives, and Louis becomes very confused.

When the doors open, there’s a girl inside, maybe about seventeen or eighteen. At first, Louis doesn’t pay much attention to her, but after a while, he’s kind of forced to.

Because as the elevator is moving down, this girl is openly staring at him, her wide brown eyes fixed upon his face. He tries to ignore her, but when she doesn’t look away (not so much as blinks) he turns to face her, close-lipped, forced smile in place. “Can I help you?” he asks in a slightly bitter tone. He feels a bit rude the second the words leave his lips, but then he remembers that this girl is the rude one for staring like a loon, so he’s justified.

She swallows thickly. “Are -- are you Louis Tomlinson? As in, the Louis Tomlinson?!”

Louis’ mouth falls open a bit. “Excuse me? How do you know who I am?”

She lets out a quiet gasp, a sliver of fear gleaming in her eyes. “Shit, when did you get here?! What happened to you?!” she nearly screams, and Louis takes a small step back, slightly frightened. He would get stuck in an elevator with some freak.

“Uh, this morning?”

Her eyes get even bigger at this -- if that’s even possible -- and she blushes. “Oh fuck, sorry, forget I ever said anything then,” she mutters, and that’s when the elevator doors open. She scurries out, and he just stands there and blinks for a bit before rushing out after her.

“Wait!” he calls. “Did -- did I know you, before?”

She pauses, and turns around halfway. “No, you didn’t,” is all she says, before bolting out of the front doors of the building.

****

Louis forgets all about his bizarre encounter with the even more bizarre girl when he finds Harry sitting on a stool at an outdoor bar near the ocean, now wearing a plain black t-shirt and gray skinny jeans. Without even thinking about what he’s doing, he hurries over to him and plops down on the stool next to him. “Hi,” he says brightly, and Harry is so startled that he nearly knocks over his drink.

“Fuck,” he mutters, holding it upright just in time. His cheeks are flushed when he turns to look at Louis, and he’s pouting but has a pleased glimmer in his eye. “You scared me, Louis Tomlinson. How very dare you.”

Louis laughs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Sure, sure,” Harry says, taking a sip out of the glass, and -- wait, what is he even drinking?

Louis eyes the bright pink liquid suspiciously. “Harry, what are you even drinking?”

Harry shrugs. “Will over here mixed it up for me,” he says, pointing to the bartender, who waves happily at Harry and then at Louis before turning back to another customer. “It’s really good. Tastes like raspberries. And vodka. But more like vodka. Would you like to try some?”

Louis snorts. “No, I’m good, thanks.”

“More for me then,” Harry says in his deep rasp, tipping his head upward and knocking back the rest of the drink. God, Louis thinks that Harry’s the only person to ever make downing a hot pink, girly drink look somewhat masculine, and strong. And hot.

Louis’ feeling dizzy again. Louis thinks he might need some help.

Then Harry turns back to the bartender -- Will -- and says, “Hey, do you have any chocolate cupcakes? With pink sprinkles? I like sprinkles.” And oops, there goes every last shred of masculinity that Louis thought Harry possessed.

Someone this damn adorable shouldn’t be allowed, god damn it.

Louis doesn’t trust himself to speak at the moment, so he just kind of sits there on the stool, swinging his feet back and forth while glaring at Harry’s long legs. They can touch the floor.

“So Louis,” Harry says, and Louis looks back up and sees that there’s a small chocolate cupcake with pink sprinkles sitting on the counter in front of him. “Tell me about yourself.”

Louis snorts. “What?”

Harry’s eyes widen innocently. “You’re the first person I’ve met here. I want to know more about you.”

“Oh.” Louis lets out a light cough. “Well. I can’t remember about myself, really.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Okay, I know that. I mean, the things you do remember.”

“Oh. Well, I...I really like Coldplay,” he blurts out, unable to think of anything else. Come on Tomlinson, such a stupid fucking thing to say, honestly. Of everything cool that you could say right now, that’s what you decide to tell him?

Harry’s eyes brighten, though, and he smiles. “Me too! What else?”

“Um.” He can’t think of anything to say. Why can’t he think of anything to say.

Harry’s waiting patiently, bobbing his head to a nonexistent beat as he eyes Louis carefully. He’s not wearing a snapback today, but has instead styled his hair so that it’s all pushed back and gorgeous. It makes his eyes that much brighter, that much more striking.

Louis, for the life of him, can’t read what his eyes are saying and it bothers him. And suddenly, he knows just what to say. “Can I ask you a question, actually?”

Harry seems delighted at the notion. “Of course!”

“What are you thinking right now? Honestly.”

Harry purses his lips, and ugh just fucking stop that, it’s absolutely ruining Louis. He’s tempted to reach over and cover Harry’s mouth with his hand, just so that he won’t have to see it anymore.

But that might backfire then, because his mouth would be on Louis’ hand and that could lead to some awkward tension on Louis’ part, and in no way is he prepared to handle that.

“Well, I’m thinking about this cupcake and how sweet it is,” he says, licking a bit of the frosting off the top, and fucking fuck fuck that mouth has got to go, he’s absolutely impossible. “And I’m thinking about how beautiful it is here, and how much I love the beach. I’m also thinking about you, and about how I’m glad I met you today.” Harry scoots a little closer to Louis while saying this, shooting Louis a glittering smile, and fuck that’s flirting isn’t it.

Louis thinks he might actually throw up. “Oh.”

Harry just smiles at him, beautiful eyes sparkling in faux-innocence.

Absolutely, positively, really fucking impossible.

****

Louis and Harry become friends.

They explore this new world together, sometimes getting strange looks from some of the younger people they encounter, but with neither of them caring enough to find out why. They go swimming, they sit around and drink together, and Harry convinces Louis to build sand castles. Louis even gets Harry to try out surfing, which didn’t really go well in any shape or form except for the fact that Louis got to see Harry’s body in a wetsuit. So at least there was that.

They’ve even found other friends -- people they talk to everywhere are, to put it simply, wonderful, and every day they meet someone new that they love. They all promise to contact each other, and they’ve hung out with quite a few of these new friends in the past few days.

Niall pops in every once in a while to check on the two of them -- because apparently he’s Harry’s “tour guide” too? -- almost annoyingly bright and excited to see them every single time. It would get on Louis’ nerves, but he couldn’t possibly be upset with Niall for any reason at all -- he’s much too kind.

Overall, they’ve been in this new place for a couple of weeks now, and Louis decides that he might actually really like it.

****

“How long does it take to ‘find true happiness,’ Niall?”

Louis and Niall are lazing about Louis’ flat, Louis having called Niall over to just hang out this time. Niall was more than happy to oblige.

Niall shrugs, taking another bite of burger. “Different for everyone,” he says with his mouth full.

Louis visibly cringes. “Manners, love,” he says mockingly, leaning over on the couch to pat Niall’s cheek. Niall just takes another bite before continuing. “For me, it took maybe two years or so. Found some friends, found some beer, found a guitar, and everything was ace.”

“Have people ever gotten their memories back faster?”

“Very rare cases, yeah. It’d take a lot for that to happen though, Tommo. I wouldn’t count on it.”

The two are quiet for a bit.

“Niall, if you don’t mind me asking, how...how’d you die?”

Niall swallows his bit of burger, not meeting Louis’ eyes. “I was sick. Really, really sick.”

“Sick with what?”

“Leukemia. Runs in my family, and it got to me too.”

“God, I’m sorry, that must’ve been awful,” Louis says quietly. Niall just looks at him, meeting his eyes and holding Louis’ gaze there for a long time. Louis feels like Niall wants to say something, is trying to communicate through that one look.

He just can’t figure out what it is he’s trying to say.

Just then, the door crashes open, breaking Louis and Niall’s awkward tension. “My children! I’m hooooome!” Harry sing-songs, running over to them and jumping on top of them on the couch. Louis’ not surprised; over the past few weeks, he’s learned that Harry is a very touchy person. He hasn’t yet seen him this happy before, though, which is...different. And really nice.

Niall laughs. “Haz, the fuck are you doing?” Louis has noticed that Niall’s picked up on nicknames for the two of them very quickly. He thinks that Niall may have started using them before they did themselves. It makes Louis curious.

“Hugging my favorite people in the entireeee world!” Harry says slowly, before leaning back and standing up, confused expression on his face. “Or, death-world?” He pauses again, and then shakes his head, smiling. “No, real world too.”

Harry makes eye contact with Louis then, after this weird conversation he has with himself, and a flash of some sort of understanding appears in Harry’s eyes. Before Louis can ask what he’s thinking about, or what’s wrong, the flash is gone. Harry’s now grinning at him, cheeks pinking a bit. He leans down and gives Louis a quick kiss on the forehead, before disappearing into the kitchen and shouting, “Do you have any bananas, Louiiiis?”

Louis’ too flustered to answer, because fuck. Lips. Forehead. Contact. Fuck.

“Or,” Niall says quietly, making Louis jump. “Maybe finding true happiness in less than two years is possible.”

Louis’ too busy blushing to even comprehend what that even means.

****

The four week mark is when the first one hits.

Harry and Louis are driving to Somewhere.

Yes, to Somewhere. Harry claims that it’s an actual place. Louis, however, thinks that Harry merely has no idea where he’s fucking going, and is trying to make up for that by being (or, trying to be) silly.

It doesn’t work.

(Yes it does).

Eventually, they find a park, and Harry is way too fucking excited about it -- he keeps pointing out the car window as they’re getting closer and saying “Lou! Look, a park!” over and over again.

It should be annoying. It’s really endearing.

When Harry parks, the two of them jump out, and Harry runs straight for the swingset.

Louis rolls his eyes and runs after him as he plops himself down in one of the swings, looking very satisfied.

It’s disgusting.

(But not really.)

Louis gets tired of running about halfway there, and walks the rest of the way to sit in the swing next to him. It’s getting dark, the sun slowly setting behind clumps of trees in the distance, and Harry’s watching it in awe while slowly rocking back and forth.

Louis looks at Harry, at his messy brown hair -- which he decided to leave down and unstyled today, making him look younger -- and his impossibly pink lips and his green eyes that seem to change shade and depth in different places. Right now, his eyes are a forest green, deep and layered and gorgeous.

Louis wants to explore them.

He can’t help but realize how lucky he was to bump into Harry on that first day, and that without Harry, he’s not sure this would be quite so fun here. He really wants to know who Harry actually is, and where he came from.

Without even thinking about it, he reaches over and touches Harry’s arm, and Harry jumps, looking at him confusedly. Louis just gives him a small smile and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together.

And then something happens.

Louis gasps, and he thinks about something -- no, remembers something. He remembers...remembers being in a car, a large black suburban, sitting next to….next to someone he can’t really see. And...and it’s raining, and there’s a guy driving the car, saying that the road’s getting bumpy and that he can’t see very much. He remembers pressing closer to the person next to him, scared, when the driver suddenly screamed and told him and the other person to duck, and there were headlights coming towards them and...and then there was a really loud crunching of metal, and lots of blood, and then...and that was it.

“Fuck,” Louis says breathlessly, gripping Harry’s hand really tight without realizing it.

“Louis? What’s wrong?” Harry says quietly, voice dripping with concern. He gently tilts Louis’ face towards his own. “Look at me, Louis. Are you okay?”

Louis swallows thickly. “Yeah, I’m...I’m fine. I just...remembered something.”

Harry’s eyes widen in interest. “Really? What’d you remember?”

“It was a car accident. I...I died in a car accident.”

Harry’s mouth falls open a little bit, and he lets go of Louis’ hand to rub his arm soothingly. “Louis, I’m -- me too. I mean, I died in a car accident too.”

Louis furrows his eyebrows, and he looks Harry in the eyes. “Really?”

Harry nods.

“And...we arrived at the beach at the same time…” Louis says quietly, and Harry looks confused.

They sit there in silence for a moment, before Harry gasps quietly, everything clicking. “There’s no way.”

“Do you think there could be?”

“I don’t know, I...it can’t be. What are the chances, right?”

“I don’t know, Harry. We couldn’t have...we couldn’t have known each other, right? We would’ve remembered by now, if we died together. Right?”

Harry bites his lip before answering. “I mean...yeah, I think so….um.”

They sit in silence some more. “Yeah, impossible,” Louis says, the words ringing with finality, and that is that.

****

Louis wants to take Harry on a date.

“Ni, I want to take Harry on a date.”

A huge smile breaks out across Niall’s face, and he rushes over to give Louis a hug. “Do it, do it right fucking now!”

“N-now?!” Louis sputters. “Are you insane?! I have to prep first, and like, bring him flowers and be cute about it and everything!”

Niall rolls his eyes, holds his hand out to the side, and a bouquet of roses appears in it. He then points to Louis’ bed, and seconds later, a collared shirt and dark jeans show up.

Louis stares in disbelief.

“Did you forget where we are, Lou? You can make anything happen,” Niall says, amused, holding the bouquet out to Louis.

“Niall, I am in no way mentally prepared to ask Harry out on a date.”

“Well, you better be, because he’s going to be here any minute.” Niall snaps his fingers, and the fancy clothing is on Louis, and Louis squeaks. “Niall! I don’t know how I’m going to do this!”

“Easy. ‘Hey Harry, you’re well fit and I want to fuck, so we should date.’ “

Louis blushes, rolling his eyes and fighting the grin that’s threatening to break out on his face. “Stop, Ni. I’m serious.”

“So am I! You obviously want to fuck him, the way you look at him sometimes -- “

“OKAY anyways,” Louis says forcefully, “I don’t know what to do. Or where to take him. I’m not creative! And also, what if he doesn’t say yes?!”

Niall laughs right in his face. “You’re a fucking idiot, Tommo. Good luck!” Niall snaps his fingers again, and he’s gone.

“Wha - Niall!”

Nothing.

“Fucking idiot,” Louis whispers, and Niall appears in front of him again. “I heard that!” he says accusingly with another cackle, and then he’s gone again.

Then the door swings open.

Louis really regrets the day that he had Niall give a key to his flat to Harry.

“Louis!” Harry says in greeting, shrugging his jacket off at the door, not having looked at Louis yet. Louis’ having a fucking panic attack -- he’s standing here, in the middle of his living room, holding roses and god damn it Niall.

Then Harry looks at him, and his eyebrows pop up. “Oh? What’s this?”

“Uh.” Louis’ going to fucking kill Niall, honestly. “It’s for. Um.”

Harry’s just standing there, waiting.

Louis swallows thickly, and then sighs. “They’re...they’re for you,” he says quietly, walking towards him. “I was wondering, if...um. Curly, would you like to...um. Go out to...to dinner...with me? Tonight?” He holds the roses out to Harry, and prays to God that his facial expression doesn’t look as constipated as he feels like it does right now.

Harry’s mouth has fallen open a little bit, and he slowly reaches out to take the roses. He thumbs at the petals of one of them, cheeks flushed. He’s opening and closing his mouth, as if he’s going to say something but then doesn’t.

Louis, meanwhile, is acting like he isn’t about to sob violently or throw himself out the window.

Harry coughs into his hand, and then (finally) looks at Louis, giving him a very sweet smile. “I’d like that very much, actually.”

Oh sweet, sweet relief. Thank fuck. Louis feels the smile spreading across his face before he’s even consciously aware of it. “Fantastic. I’ll, um, pick you up around seven then, maybe? If that’s okay?”

Harry checks his watch. “Seven?! Louis, that’s barely an hour away! I don’t have enough time to get ready!”

Louis really, really wants to kiss him. “You better hurry then, yeah?”

Harry freezes, and then nods rapidly. “Yeah, okay! I’ll see you soon Louis!” He grabs his jacket and heads toward the door, but then pauses. He turns around quickly and scurries over to Louis, presses a gentle kiss to his cheek, and then walks backwards toward the door, looking very pleased with himself. “For the record,” Harry says huskily as he holds the door open, “I really like pasta.”

Louis can’t do anything but nod rapidly and will the blush in his cheeks to go away. “Yeah, pasta. Got it.”

Harry giggles, his cheeks pink as well, before shutting the door.

At that precise moment, Niall appears in the room again. “Now was that so hard?”

Louis kicks him.

****

Louis takes Harry to an Italian bistro, a place with fancy art on the walls and vines and other plants twisting every which way, and Harry is endeared with it immediately. Score one for Tommo.

He looks radiant too, eyes happy and bright. Louis has no idea how he got so lucky.

They talk, they eat pasta Lady and the Tramp style, they laugh, they link ankles under the table and hold hands while sharing dessert.

Overall, it’s pretty perfect.

And when Louis walks Harry to the door of his complex, the good night kiss they share is pretty perfect too.

Louis initiates it, gently curling his hands around Harry’s shirt collar -- a shirt that makes Harry’s shoulders look very broad and lovely, actually -- and standing on the tips of his toes to capture Harry’s lips in his. Harry kisses slow, just like he does everything else -- his lips move in tandem with Louis’ at a relaxed pace, as if he’s savoring every single moment. One of Harry’s unfairly large hands cups his cheek -- the other hand on the small of his back -- as he swipes his tongue over Louis’ bottom lip, causing Louis to gasp and allowing for Harry to sneak his tongue into the kiss, and their tongues wrestle languidly before Louis finally pulls away.

Harry whines in protest, trying to pull Louis back, and Louis laughs and relents for another quick second before pulling back for good this time. Harry’s left pouting, his gorgeous lips wet and redder than usual, tempting Louis. Louis gives Harry one last peck on the cheek, before jokingly whispering, “Don’t push your luck, I don’t put out on the first date,” in Harry’s ear.

Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot, why do I even like you?”

“Probably because I like you mooore,” Louis sing-songs as he walks back to his car, and Harry laughs. “Not a chance, Louis Tomlinson. Not a chance.”

Harry watches Louis drive away, and if Louis says he’s ever been happier, he’d be lying.

****

When Louis gets home that night, he remembers his family.

He calls Niall over and has a panic attack, thinking about his younger siblings -- especially his newborn twin brother and sister -- and Niall reassures him, tells him that they’re alright.

“Is Mum okay, though? Fuck, she did not handle it well, I know her and she didn’t handle it well at all.”

“On the contrary,” Niall says, “Your Mum handled it great, mostly because of your sisters and brother. She has to be there for them, Louis.”

Louis forces himself to stop breathing so hard, forces the tears back. “God, fuck Niall, I don’t want anyone to be sad because of a car accident, because of me.”

Niall just gives him his sad eyes, and holds his arms out for a hug. Louis runs into them, holding Niall so tight that he thinks he might be crushing him. Niall doesn’t complain, though.

“They’re all better now, than when it first happened. I can promise you that,” Niall mutters.

“All?”

“Yeah, all of them.”

“All who? My family?”

Niall sighs, rubbing Louis’ back. “And more. You’ll see soon enough.”

****

There are lots of dates after, throughout the next few weeks. Bunches of them, even.

Niall always says “I told you so.” Louis always ignores him.

****

Louis asks Harry to be his boyfriend in a very elaborate process involving Miley Cyrus’ “23” (which is currently Harry’s favorite song), chocolate cupcakes with pink sprinkles, flowers, and Niall.

Harry says yes.

****

Six months later, Harry tells Louis he loves him.

“Fuck, I love you too,” Louis says breathlessly, and they giggle and make out for about ten minutes before Louis can’t take it anymore and strips Harry of his pants, and, well, that’s that.

****

“Larry.”

“What?”

Louis purses his lips. “When I woke up this morning, I was thinking about someone named Larry. And I don’t know who that is.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together. “Maybe...maybe you knew him before?”

Louis sighs. “I don’t know. Just kiss me.”

Harry grins and obliges. Louis is very happy.

****

A few months later, Louis has a dream that he’s singing to a crowd of thousands of people.

The crazy thing is, though, that he’s singing with Harry. And Niall. And two other boys he’s never seen before.

When he wakes up, he calls Niall over and Niall laughs happily, manically giddy. He doesn’t explain anything though, just leaves straight after.

Louis thinks he might finally be getting close.

****

A few weeks later, Harry stops talking to Louis for three whole days.

Louis is so confused, but Niall keeps popping into his flat every time he so much as thinks about going to visit Harry. He always tells Louis to give Harry some time, that he’s just not feeling well at the moment and needs some space.

Louis, naturally, panics. “Niall, did I do something wrong? Is he mad at me?”

“Oh far from it, Lou. He’s not upset with you at all. He’s just kind of overwhelmed at the moment, he has to sort through his thoughts for a while. He still loves you just as much as he always has.” Niall’s voice softens, and Louis groans and throws himself, face-down, onto his bed.

****

Niall was right.

Harry turns up at Louis’ flat a few days after, bringing him a box of chocolate cupcakes with pink sprinkles and vanilla cupcakes with blue sprinkles. “I’m sorry, Lou,” he says quietly, eyes shining with something so powerful that Louis’ almost kind of scared.

“Haz, you okay?”

Harry leans down to press a kiss to Louis’ lips. “More than okay, babe. So much more than okay.” He smiles at Louis, a smile full of so much emotion and so much love that Louis almost squints, because Harry’s just so bright.

“You’re basically a miracle, you know that?” Harry whispers to Louis, pressing their foreheads together, “I can’t believe you, I can’t believe you found me, I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

Louis is, for some reason, feeling particularly emotional. “You’re the miracle, Haz. I can’t believe I’m so lucky, to have someone like you in my life.”

Harry laughs, pulling back, and his eyes are kind of watery. Before Louis can ask, though, Harry’s pulling him in for a bruising kiss, and with that, all of Louis’ thoughts disappear.

****

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t happy, Haz.”

Louis freezes in the kitchen doorway, hiding behind the wall and biting his lip.

He’d gone into the kitchen to grab sodas for him, Harry, and Niall, and then he realized he had to take a wee. He’d gone to the toilet, and then came back to get the sodas, and it’s apparently been a while -- the toilet is ages away -- because as he’s about to go into the living room, Niall and Harry are having some sort of intense conversation.

“But what if he’s not happy enough, Niall? What if I’m not it for him? If he hasn’t realized, then…”

“Oh shut up, Harry, don’t fucking talk like that. That’s a lie and you know it.”

Harry says nothing.

“Okay, look. You know that you’ve always been more open with your emotions. Louis’ different. I promise you, he’ll know. You make him happy. You’ve always made him happy.”

“You’re sure?”

“A million percent, Haz. So sure. He’s yours, and you’re his. No question about it.”

Louis swallows thickly and pushes the kitchen door open, tossing Niall his soda and handing Harry his. “You two alright?”

Harry smiles at Louis, though his eyes look a bit dim. “Perfect, love. Thank you,” he says as he cracks his can of soda open.

Louis eyes Niall, and Niall gives him a knowing look as he takes a sip. He shakes his head slightly, and Louis sighs. No asking questions then.

They settle down to watch a movie -- Bambi, because Harry insisted -- and Louis is left feeling unsettled.

****

Louis forgets all about the uneasiness of the hours prior when Harry whispers in Louis’ ear (after the movie’s over, when Niall’s fallen asleep), “Would you like to go for a night swim?”

They splash around in the ocean, Harry giving Louis piggyback rides and giving him underwater kisses.

And, though he thinks back on his family every day and worries about them endlessly, and though he doesn’t even remember most of his own life, and though he really has to talk to Niall about whatever it is Harry was upset about, he decides that he needs to enjoy the present.

And right now, Harry makes him happy.

****

Today is the day that marks the one year anniversary of Harry and Louis being dead. And, though it sounds like it should be a morbid occasion, they decide to celebrate. It’s the day they first met, after all.

Harry makes reservations at a steakhouse, and tells Louis to dress pretty before rushing out the door to go to his own flat and get dressed. Louis is absolutely giddy.

Louis decides to style his hair in a floppy way off to the side, and opts out of shaving, because Harry thinks his scruff is hot (and let’s be real, Louis thinks his own scruff is pretty hot too). He tugs on some dark jeans and puts on a collared shirt, cringing at the pairs of suspenders that are in his closet (for whatever reason) and choosing a dark gray blazer to wear instead.

After getting dressed, he lazes about his flat, waiting for Harry -- who’s not due to pick him up for another twenty minutes.

He decides to talk to Niall. He closes his eyes, and when he turns around, Niall is sitting on his kitchen counter, legs swinging back and forth. “Hey Lou. You look fancy. Date night?”

“Yeah,” Louis says, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “It’s my and Harry’s one year anniversary of being here, so, we figured we’d do something special.”

“Aw, boyfriendsss,” Niall teases, dragging out the word, and Louis rolls his eyes.

There’s silence for a bit, Niall continuing to swing his feet and Louis adjusting his blazer. Then, Louis clears his throat. “Niall, what were you and Harry talking about that one day a few weeks ago, when I overheard you guys from the kitchen?”

Niall shakes his head, but doesn’t say anything.

Louis swallows thickly. “Please tell me, Ni. Seriously.”

Niall hesitates, and then sighs. “Harry remembers his life.”

Louis gapes.

Louis’ then about to say something else when Harry knocks on Louis’ door, and Niall disappears.

****

Dinner is lovely, but Louis’ unfinished conversation with Niall is niggling at the back of his mind.

After they eat, he can’t take it anymore, and decides that he has to talk to Harry about it. Before he can, though, Harry takes Louis’ hand. “I ordered something special for you,” he says softly, and, as if planned, the waiter brings Louis a large slice of vanilla cake with white frosting and blue sprinkles, and Harry looks so happy that Louis can’t bring himself to talk about sad things at the moment.

He sends Harry a crinkly grin, and scoops out a bite of the cake, and my oh my is it delicious. He’s about to go for another bite when he chomps down on something hard and very solid, and he squeaks in surprise.

Harry’s face reveals nothing, and Louis leans down to spit his mouthful up on his plate. When he sees what’s sitting in front of him, he chokes on his own saliva.

There, sitting in clumps of chewed cake and frosting, is a golden ring, its thick band shining in the light of the restaurant.

Once Louis’ finished choking, Harry stands up, walks over by Louis’ chair, and gets down on one knee. Louis thinks he might start choking all over again.

“Louis Tomlinson, I’d -- I’d quite like it if you’d marry me,” Harry says quietly, and the image of Harry on one knee does it for Louis.

His eyes go wide as a dam crumbles inside of his mind, and a tsunami of thoughts rush to the forefront of Louis’ mind.

One Direction.

Liam. Zayn. Niall.

Car accident -- car accident with Harry. He -- he was the person that Louis died with, they died together, and --

And they were dating -- no, they were engaged. Secretly. Because gay, and -- and he had Eleanor, and Harry had Kendall, and -- matching tattoos because there were so many secrets, and -- Harry had asked Louis to marry him just like this with the cake and everything, in a private booth in the back of some obscure steakhouse where they’d paid off the owners to not tell anyone, and --

Holy fuck, fans. They had fans. The girl in the elevator all those months ago, and the -- the “other” people Niall was talking about that one time, and -- fucking fuck.

“Harry -- you -- we -- we had, before when we were alive, we were together, and -- and we -- holy shit, we --” Louis’ hyperventilating, because there’s so much happening all at once, and Harry’s looking up at him with tears in his eyes. “You remembered,” Harry whispers, laughing a watery laugh and wiping at his nose. “You actually remembered.”

Louis’ about to cry himself, but for right now, he pushes all of these realizations to the back of his mind, because Harry’s kneeling in front of him and is waiting for an answer. He smiles at Harry, and says, “I would absolutely love to be married to you, Harry.”

****

Niall is waiting for them when they get home.

“Fuck -- Niall!” Louis shouts, running to him and jumping into his arms. He’s crying now, and so is Niall, and so is Harry from where he’s standing by the door, and it should all be so sad but they’re all so happy.

“Niall, it’s been fucking ages, you -- wow, Niall, wow,” Louis stutters, sniffling in between words.

Niall puts Louis down and wipes his own eyes, nodding. “Can you imagine what it was like for me when you two didn’t know me though? I was right miserable. Took you long enough to figure it out!”

“No, I remember everything now, all of it. We -- me and Harry were visiting your grave together the night we died, we took you flowers, because we had made a tradition out of going to visit you every year on that very day. It was rainy, and Paul said we shouldn’t go, but we didn’t want to break tradition -- we’d done it four times before, after all. We were on our way back, and...we got hit by a drunk driver.”

Harry nods, walking forward to wrap an arm around Louis’ waist.

“And -- fuck, Niall, it’s been so long, I’m so happy to see you,” Louis says, a fresh round of tears welling up in his eyes as he goes for another hug.

So this is what true happiness feels like.

****

A few hours later, the three of them are sitting ‘round in a circle on the floor in Louis’ living room, and trying to sort everything out.

“So Harry, you knew?”

“Yeah, um. When I wasn’t talking to you for a few days, I was at home, trying to figure everything out, because I had remembered and -- there were so many things, Louis, that we left behind, and I guess I was just scared of it all.”

“What about our fans? How are they?”

“They’ve stayed strong, Lou,” Niall says, “They’ve always been there for us, supporting us after I was gone and after you two died too. They’ve never left us, honestly.”

Louis’ thinks his eyes are going to be infinitely teary, because of the sheer amount of emotion he’s feeling right now. “Our girls,” he says nostalgically, laughing.

“They’re strong,” Harry says, “They’ve all had to suffer through trials and tribulations of their own. They’re fine without us, because they have each other.”

The three are silent for a bit, but then Louis speaks up. “What about Liam and Zayn? How are they?”

“Well, they’re not singing anymore, obviously. They both agreed that they couldn’t go on, just the two of them, and still call it One Direction.”

“I still can’t believe we continued performing and stuff after Niall though,” Harry mutters, and Louis rubs his arm soothingly. “It was Niall’s wish though, wasn’t it?”

Niall nods. “Before I died, I told you guys, remember? I told you to keep singing, for the girls. For One Direction, and for me.”

Harry’s lip is wobbling now, and Louis shushes him comfortingly, running his fingers through his curls. Too many fucking tears, honestly. Louis can’t tell up from down or left from right at the moment, because there’s so much stuff and his brain is spinning. Everything is a pile of mush.

“They’re much better now,” Niall continues quietly. “Was hard for them, losing you two at the same time, so soon after me. But they’ve stayed strong, been there for each other. Zayn has Perrie, and Liam has Sophia. I’d say they’re doing just fine.”

Louis smiles. “Good, good. Always been little troopers, those two. The best friends I could’ve ever asked for.”

The three of them laugh quietly, tears and emotions all over the place and ugh fuck.

“So, my job is done boys, as your tour guide,” Niall says sadly, and Louis jumps. “You’re not leaving us, are you?!”

Niall smiles. “No, I’ll still be around, we’ll hang out and everything. But I can’t pop in and out of places anymore, that’s a power reserved for tour guides specifically. My mission with you two is complete,” he adds at the end, jokingly saluting at them, and Harry and Louis giggle.

“How’d you get assigned to us, Ni?” Harry asks in his rough voice -- even rougher now because of all the crying -- and Louis reaches over to grab Harry’s hand, his engagement ring shining in the light of Louis’ flat. It makes Louis smile.

“Well, when someone dies, basically what happens is, the person in the afterlife who was closest to them in real life is notified. So, because I’m the one here that you guys were once close to when I was alive -- or, even if you know other people here, I’m still the closest dead friend you had -- they assigned me to guide both of you. And they gave me powers to appear and disappear so that I could be summoned to you whenever you needed me. I’m going to miss that, it was fun not having to walk around everywhere,” Niall says, pouting, but Louis’ too surprised to jokingly tell him off for being a child. “Seriously?! That’s so sick Niall, does that mean that me and Haz are gonna get to be tour guides too?!”

“Maybe. It’s not all that great though, remember. Whoever you’re guiding won’t remember you, for a really long time. And that’s the hardest part, I’d say.”

Harry and Louis are silent for a while, and then Louis says, “I love you guys. And I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Awww,” Niall and Harry chorus, and Niall laughs, wrapping his arms tightly around Louis, and then Harry joins, and it becomes one big fabulous group hug of friends who once met tragic ends, but have come to unite once more.

****

Fifty Years Later

****

“We can do this Haz. We’ll be great.”

“Louis, they don’t know who we are, I don’t want them to not know us.”

“Oi, you two, stop being miserable. I’m so excited I’m going to get my powers back!”

Louis, Harry, and Niall are currently waiting in an all-white room, similar to the one Louis arrived in. Somehow, they managed to bend the rules, and all three of them are going to be tour guides together this time for two people. Louis doesn’t know if he’s more excited or terrified.

Despite Louis’ mixed feelings, he’s currently doing his best to comfort Harry. “Harry, we’ve been tour guides before. You did it for your Mum, and I did it for mine. We survived, they made it and they remember us now and everything’s perfect. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“But this is different, because they’re -- “

“Sh. Not another word, Harry. I didn’t marry a coward.”

Harry pouts, and Louis smiles and presses a kiss to Harry’s beautiful lips (lips that still make Louis crazy after all this time, by the way).

Niall rolls his eyes at the two of them, picking at his fingernails.

“So, they’re coming back as...um. How old are they going to be, when they arrive?” Louis asks Niall, and Niall sighs. “Everyone who dies reverts to the age at which they were happiest, in the afterlife. If your Mum came here at the age of 45, then she was happiest when she was 45, even if she died at 76. Louis, you know this already, I don’t know why the fuck you’re asking so many questions.”

“I don’t know, I’m nervous Niall, jeez. Sorry.”

“I thought you said there was nothing to be nervous of!” Harry exclaims, and Louis turns back to him with a sweet smile. “There isn’t, love,” he says, patting Harry’s cheek, and Harry just puts his hands on his hips. “I’m not having this. I want to go home.”

“You don’t want to see them, H?”

“No, I do, I just…” Harry sighs.

Silence.

“I know,” Louis whispers after a while, looping his arm through Harry’s.

And they wait.

****

“Is it time?” Harry asks, scared, when the high-pitched ring of what sounds like a school bell reverberates throughout the room.

“Yeah, it’s time,” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s hand tight.

“I’ll do the signal, yeah?” Niall mutters, and the three of them stand in silence and wait.

“Aaaaand….go now,” Niall mutters, and the three of them snap their fingers in unison, and appear in another all-white room.

But this time, they’re not the only ones. There are two other figures sitting together, speaking intently to each other.

“Who are you?” Louis hears one of them asking the other. The other one raises his eyebrows. “I should be asking you the same thing.”

They haven’t noticed Harry, Niall, or Louis.

Louis can’t breathe, because -- because it’s them. And it’s been so fucking long, holy shit.

They’re both in their mid-twenties, despite the fact that they’d died in their seventies. And Louis could cry, because they’re all about the same age as they were at the peak of One Direction’s fame, and it’s so, so brilliant.

Louis holds Harry’s hand tight, linking himself to something solid before he does something stupid, like tackling the two boys a little ways away. Harry grips Louis’ hand back even tighter.

Niall clears his throat. The two boys look up and scream.

“Hi Zayn, hi Liam,” Niall says happily, grin spread wide across his face. Zayn and Liam gasp.

Louis’ trying so hard not to cry happy tears as he looks at his boys, even though they have no idea who he is. “I’m Louis,” Louis says loudly, forcing himself to smile. “I’m Harry,” Harry says slowly, smirking at the two of them, even though Louis can see in his eyes that he wants to cry just as much as Louis does. “And I’m Niall,” Niall adds at the end.

Zayn and Liam gape. “Who the fuck -- how the fuck -- where did you come from?” Liam says, sounding terrified. Zayn says nothing, eyes wide and terrified.

God, Louis’ missed them.

Louis turns to look at Harry and Niall, and they nod. Louis takes a deep breath, and turns back to Zayn and Liam.

“And we’re your tour guides.”

****

~fin~


End file.
